


The Collectors

by ryl00



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-02
Updated: 2009-10-15
Packaged: 2019-02-11 06:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryl00/pseuds/ryl00
Summary: KOTOR LSM Revan. During the quest for the Star Maps, a journey through hyperspace is interrupted by the appearance of a mysterious vessel. [Originally posted to FFN in 2009]





	1. Chapter 1

_Pazaak – Interrupted journey – The discussion_

* * *

“Jolee, you’re not even trying!”

“Patience, young one.  I’m not quite as sharp as I used to be, you know.  Now, let’s see, how many cards do I start with again?”

“Four.”

“Oh, it appears I have too many,” the elder ex-Jedi said, passing some back to Mission.

“No, no, you have to select the four you want from the deck you already have.”

“Oh, okay… I guess I’ll take these four.”

“You didn’t even look!”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to?”

“You’re not supposed to look at the cards _I’ll_ deal out.  But that’s _your_ deck; you can look at those all you want.”

“But it’s not mine, it’s yours.  You gave these to me, remember?”

“Yes, but… Bastila!  Bastila!”

She cringed inside… she’d tried to slip through as quickly as possible through the shadows at the edges of the central room of the _Ebon Hawk_ , but the sharp-eyed Twi’lek had still spotted her.  And now that she’d instinctively stopped, it was too late to deny she hadn’t heard…  “Yes, Mission?” she replied, sighing inside as she approached the two sitting across from each other at a table.

“Care to join us in a little game of Pazaak?” Mission asked.

“Ah, I’d love to, Mission, but I’m quite busy right now.  Perhaps some other time, thanks,” she said, smiling politely.

“Busy doing what?” Jolee asked.  “Walking a rut back and forth through the hallway?”

She blinked.  “Uh… no… I have some things I need to meditate on, Elder…”

“Elder?  Please!  Save the titles for someone who cares.  Besides, meditation’s an old man’s game.”  He rose.  “And I just so happen to be that old man.  So I’d say we should switch places.  I’ll go meditate, you keep this one occupied.  What were you going to meditate on?”

“What?”

“You already know how to play, right Bas?”

Bas?  Since when had she become _Bas_?

“What were you going to meditate on?  I’ll do it for you.”

“I mean, I’m only assuming, since you’ve watched a lot of Enosh’s Pazaak games already.”

Was he teasing her?  “It.. it doesn’t quite work that way,” she replied to Jolee with a polite smile, while desperately trying to catch up to what the Twi’lek girl was babbling about.

“Personally, I just can’t get into watching other people’s games, not unless I’m studying up on their strategy or something, but you’re obviously showing an interest in it.”

“Why not?  You, me… as long as someone’s meditating on it, it’ll get done.”

“Or maybe you’re interested in something besides the Pazaak, hmmm?”

“Because the whole point… that is… it’s _who_ , not what… you can’t just… _what_?!”

Jolee smiled at her, a twinkle in his eyes.  He patted her on the shoulder, gently helping her to his seat despite her weak protests.  “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I need to meditate on some very,” here he glanced at Bastila’s serious demeanor, and added, “ _very_ serious Jedi matters.”

Mission’s adroit fingers soon had Pazaak cards flying through the air like acrobats.

* * *

“That’s not good.”

Enosh looked up from the datapad he’d been reading.  “What is it?”

Carth started flipping switches.  “Hang on, we’re going to have to come out of hyperspace real quick!”

Enosh was barely able to brace himself in his chair before the shimmering, swirling lights of hyperspace outside suddenly and abruptly reformed themselves into a starfield.

There was a tremendous crash and clatter coming up from midship.  Indistinct voices started complaining.

“Sorry about that!” yelled Carth back down the corridor.

“Carth, what is it?” Enosh asked, bringing up displays on the consoles in front of him.

There came the sound of footsteps from the corridor, and Enosh turned to see Bastila and Mission running up.  “What happened?” Bastila asked.

“Some sort of damping field out there,” Carth replied.  “Right across the hyperspace lanes.  If I hadn’t just dropped us out of hyperspace, it might have shaken the ship apart!”

“What’s something like that doing across a well-established line like the Kashyyyk-Tatooine line?” Bastila asked, moving past Enosh to take the co-pilot’s seat.

He spotted something fall out of her hair and onto the floor.

“Guess it was just our unlucky day,” Carth replied.

Reaching down, Enosh picked up a Pazaak card.  He looked at Mission questioningly.

She shrugged her shoulders.  “I was bored.”

He turned to look at Bastila, but she was busy looking at the ship’s scanners, trying to help out Carth.  “And?” he asked Mission.

Her eyes twinkled.  “She’s terrible,” she whispered with a smile.

* * *

They gathered around the midship holoprojector table.

Carth punched a button on the edge of the table, dimming the lights and bringing the display to life.  “Our scanners have found what looks to be a derelict freighter right at the heart of the damping field,” he said, as the a tiny pinprick of light in the center of a glowing bubble suddenly magnified into the form of a ship.  “I can only guess that it must have just recently drifted into the lines, blocking this particular region.  I took the liberty of dropping a beacon to divert oncoming spacecraft away, but we’re stuck here for the time being.”

“Stuck?” asked Juhani.

“Well, not literally,” Carth said.  “Sub-light is fine, but it’ll take a day or two to get out of the region at sub-light speeds.”

Mission groaned.

“Patience, Mission,” Jolee said.  She rolled her eyes.

Enosh coughed, hiding a smile.  “How long would it take for us to reach this derelict ship?” he asked.

“Probably four hours.  We already plowed well into its field on the way in.”

“Do you think a little expedition might be in order?” Canderous asked.

“Opinion:  Stimulation would be a most welcome exercise, Master,” HK-47 chimed in.

“Exercise?  We don’t have time for this!” Bastila protested.  “We’ve already done what we can to alert others about the hazard; we should be on our way.  Carth, what would happen if we went ahead and jumped into hyperspace from here?”

“From here?  With the densest part of the field before us?  It’d be a very bumpy ride.  Perhaps fatally so, although the _Hawk_ does seem to be a relatively well-built ship; she might be able to take it.”

“That’s settled, then,” Canderous said.  “Who’s up for a little exploration?”

“It most certainly is not!” Bastila replied, glaring at HK-47 as he raised his arm.  “That’s a risk we’ll just have to take.”

“What?!” growled Canderous.

“I said…”

“Yeah, I know what you said, Princess.  Since when have _you_ started deciding what risks _we_ are taking?  Look, you can just stay here, nice and safe on the _Hawk_ , while the rest of us figure out what’s going on.  Okay?”

She was visibly flustered.  “I am no coward, sir, and this is a _Jedi_ mission which _you_ chose to join,” she replied in clipped tones.  “And I’ll thank you not to call me that again.”

Canderous laughed.  “Or what?  Are you going to strike an innocent man down, _Padawan_?”

“ _Innocent_?!” she sputtered.  “Hardly that!”

“Enough,” Enosh interrupted.  “Canderous, tone it down, will you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered darkly.  “You’re the boss.”

“And Bastila… we’re not in that much of a hurry.  A four hour delay isn’t going to kill us.”

She stared at him furiously, visibly took a moment to compose herself, then nodded curtly.

“Good.  Take us in, Carth,” Enosh said.

“You got it.”


	2. Chapter 2

_The watcher – Change of heart – The softie_

* * *

Canderous was walking down the hallway when he heard voices coming from around the corner down a short side corridor.  Quietly, he crept to the corner and peeked around.

Enosh and Bastila were in a side room by themselves, talking heatedly in low voices, completely absorbed in their discussion.

The Mandalorian shook his head.  “Poor guy,” he said to himself, as he continued on his way.  “All of the liabilities, and none of the benefits.”

* * *

“I am not a little girl, Enosh,” Bastila said, her gray eyes flashing.  “I do not need you to defend me from the likes of Canderous.”

“Yes, I know,” he replied.  “Just put it down to reflex.”

“Reflex?”

“Yes, you know, damsel in… uh, nevermind, we can go into that some other time.  Look, Bastila, I’m sorry about what happened out there,” Enosh said, “but I’m on your side in this.  You know this… I know you can feel it through our bond.  But you’ve got to be more… diplomatic when it comes to these sorts of things.”

“Diplomatic?  _Diplomatic_?  With a Mandalorian?  Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t yet gutted us all while we sleep.”

“Yes, I know, but we do owe him for helping us escape from Taris.  Despite your initial, admit it, misgivings on the subject.  And not all Mandalorians are the same.  He’s given me no reason so far not to doubt his sincerity or loyalty to our cause… have you seen anything that I haven’t?”

She let out her breath.  “In truth… in truth, no.  No.”  She paused.  “Once again, you are right, Enosh.  And the Jedi Council did not have any reservations about including him in our group.  He must have a role to play, though for the life of me I don’t know what it could possibly be.”

* * *

Watching Enosh leave, Bastila berated herself silently.  How could it be possible that he, _he_ of all people, could be so calm and collected?  The contrast between the two of them was constantly thrown in her face, and she always, always found something in herself that was lacking, deficient.

Who was watching whom here?  Despite all her trepidation, she could sense no signs that the Dark Side was gathering in him again.  Rather, it seemed the converse, he was striding with ease further and further into the Light, and she herself was the one who was constantly stumbling into the headwinds, always struggling to return to the serenity and detachment of the Jedi Order.  Perhaps it was part of his undeniable charisma, his natural ability to lead.  He seemed to know exactly how to handle the others, the right words to say, the right things to do, to motivate and inspire them.  He seemed to easily earn their respect, while she constantly felt that she was being judged, and found wanting in some way, even in Carth’s eyes.  Thinking about it now, thinking about the confidence and strength she felt flowing from him through their bond, she could not help but feel her burdens lighten, her fears recede, her thoughts sharpen and soothe.  And she felt (or was it perhaps a fanciful misconception on her part?)  that he seemed to enjoy the same from her, despite all her own self-doubts and worries, all the deficiencies and weaknesses which she just felt had to look as large as blotches on her soul to him.

Perhaps it was because she’d been so young at the time, somewhat sheltered from her elder classmates at the Enclave, but she’d never really understood how he’d been so easily able to gather so many good men at women around him, to defy the Council’s wishes.  To lead them into war against the Mandalorians.  And, ulimately, into war against the Republic and the Jedi Council itself.

But now she knew.  And despite their bond, she worried.

* * *

As Carth piloted the _Hawk_ closer, Enosh studied the derelict freighter through the canopy.  It was a smallish freighter, perhaps thirty times the size of the _Hawk_ , roughly oval-shaped, with a few bulges about one tapered end that certainly implied engines.  Non-descript, though unfamiliar to him; it certainly looked like one of the millions of non-descript, short-haul freighters which made up the majority of the commercial traffic along the Galaxy’s byways.  There was no obvious damage or scarring on the outer hull.  Running lights were still on, and a well-lit landing bay beckoned just ahead of them.

“300 meters,” Bastila said, studying her displays.  “Relative rate falling… now zero.”

“So what do you think, Carth?” Enosh asked as the pilot engaged the autopilot to stationkeep.

“Still no clue,” he replied.  “I’ve never seen the likes before, and I’ve seen a lot of ships in my time.”

“Still no comm on any frequencies,” Bastila said.

“And no signs of life, either, on any of the sensors.  Not that this ship has the best sensors around, mind you.”

Enosh turned at the sound of footsteps, and saw Canderous and Jolee approaching.  “There she is,” Enosh said, moving aside so that the two of them could get a better view.

“That’s a ship all right,” Jolee observed dryly.

“Still drawing a blank,” the Mandalorian said.  “But I’ve changed my mind on this one, Enosh.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Smells like a trap to me.  I don’t like to fight on someone else’s terms.”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling all that great about this myself,” Carth added.  “Lights are all on, it’s just asking to be boarded.  That can’t be a good sign.”

“I say we send a few torpedoes up her hull, just to be on the safe side.  That should take care of the damping field.”

“We don’t have a few torpedoes,” Carth said.  “We don’t have anything beyond the turrets.  Maybe some small ordinance we could rig up into an explosive or a mine.”

“Even if we could, we can’t just blow that ship up,” Bastila said.  “What if someone’s alive in there?”

“They would have comm’d us as we approached,” Canderous replied.  “It’s not like we snuck up on them unawares.”

“What if they’re incapacitated?  Sick?  The crew could have been struck down by a sickness.”

“Then they’re probably already dead, considering how long this ship’s probably been drifting out here.  Especially given the fact that no one here can recognize its design… it might have been drifting for a long, long time.”

“But the power’s still running,” Enosh said.  “Odd.”

“Too odd,” Canderous agreed.  “It this thing’s been drifting for a while, the power should have run out by now.  And there’s no way a plain old freighter is carrying around a damping field that can jam up a hyperspace lane like this. The lady’s right; we should leave.”

“We should investigate,” Bastila suggested.

Canderous laughed.  “Where were you a few hours ago?  Either way’s fine by me.  I’ll be waiting in the back.”  And he walked off to leave the four of them in the cockpit.

“What do you think, Carth?” Enosh asked.

“I hate to admit it, but Canderous is right,” he replied.  “This reeks of ‘trap’.  The only way it would be more obvious is if the entire Sith fleet was parked behind it.”

Enosh looked at Jolee.

“Looking for words of wisdom?  I don’t have any.  But isn’t this a little _too_ obvious?”

“Meaning…?”

“Surely the Sith aren’t so dumb as to actually think this would fool anyone.”

“So you’re saying…?”

“It might be a trap, but I doubt the Sith are behind it.”

“Perhaps if we split up,” Enosh said.  “Canderous, HK-47 and I go investigate, while the rest of you stay on the _Hawk_ , perhaps even stay parked out here after dropping us off.  Trap or not, we’ve got to disable that damping field.”

“I’m going with you,” Bastila said, turning in her chair to look at him.

“Bastila, this is too dangerous to risk the both of us…”

“Anywhere you go, I go,” she insisted.

Enosh was about to reply when he suddenly sensed her awkward embarrassment through their bond.   She seemed to realize it at the same moment, and a slight flush touched her cheeks.  “Excuse me, I need to get ready,” she mumbled, getting up and walking out past him.

He looked at Jolee, who just shrugged, a bemused smile on his face.

* * *

As Enosh headed toward the back, he was intercepted by Mission.

“Bas told me you’re going into that freighter,” she said.

_Bas_?  “Yes…”

“Take me and Big Z, too!” she hurried.  “I’m dying of boredom in here!”

“But that’s not a good reason…”

“Hey, Enosh, you know me.  You know you could use my skills in there!” she pleaded.  “There hasn’t been a door invented that I can’t pick open!”

“Yes, but…”

“Yes?  Great, thanks!  Come on, Big Z, we’re taking a trip!”  Speechless, Enosh watched as the Twi’lek and her Wookiee companion disappeared down a hallway.

Jolee came up next to him, chuckling softly.  “That one’s going to be big trouble in a few more years.”  He turned to look at Enosh.  “You’re just a big old softie when it comes to the ladies, aren’t you?  I’ll go keep Juhani occupied, before she ends up on your expedition, too.”


	3. Chapter 3

_The mirror – Landing bay – The corridor – Oops!_

* * *

Enosh knocked on the door.

“Enter.”

He opened the door into the small cabin.  Bastila stood with her back to him, studying herself in a full-length wall mirror.  Her eyes glanced at his reflection in the glass.  A hair tie was dangling from her mouth while she worked on a braid.

“What, are you expecting a reception on board that ship?” Enosh quipped, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

“Very funny,” she muttered, transferring the tie to her hand, then adroitly maneuvering it onto the braid she’d worked.  “We Jedi are the very public representatives of a revered, honored institution,” she said, studying herself in the mirror, fidgeting with her collar.  “By presenting ourselves to the best of our abilities, we dignify all that the Council stand for.”  She studied his reflection.  “You’d do well to remember that occasionally, Enosh.”

He found himself fidgeting before her stern gaze, wondering if he had a button undone somewhere.  “We’re talking about a derelict freighter in the middle of nowhere, Bastila,” he replied, making a conscious effort not to look over himself.

“True.  But this is where habit is so useful.  Habit, if properly utilized, can be of enormous use in ensuring one is always prepared.”  She pulled out her lightsaber hilt and studied it closely.

“So this is your life?  Habit, duty, rules, structure?”

“It is the Jedi life, yes,” she replied.  The hilt spun with practiced ease in her right hand.

“But surely there’s more to being a Jedi than this?  A meaning beneath the externalities?”

“Of course, certainly.  But those ‘externalities’ are in place for a reason, to help shape and focus us on our responsibilities and actions.”  She put away the hilt and studied his image in the mirror.  “Come now, you didn’t follow me just to comment on my fastidiousness.”

“You should stay on board the _Ebon Hawk_.”

“No.”

“What happened to duty and responsibility?”

“Yes, you are the leader of this mission, Enosh.  I defer to you in all things.”  She turned around to face him.  “But you are also the most important person on board this ship, and it would be unconscionable for me not to do my utmost to protect you, your feelings on the matter notwithstanding.”

“I could swear we had this same exact conversation a few hours ago.  Do you happen to recall how it went?  Something about not being a little girl?”

She just stared at him, unyielding.

“Besides, I’m pretty dangerous with a lightsaber myself.”

“I never meant to imply you weren’t.  But sometimes we must do things we do not wish to, because of the grand picture, the ultimate goal.  For whatever reason, you are the key to any hopes we might entertain to defeating Malak.  Everything pales before that.  Everything.”

* * *

The door closed quietly as Enosh left, finally acceding to her request.

She turned back to the mirror, the words she’d tossed out to Enosh returning home to reverberate within her mind.  _…Must do things we do not wish to…the ultimate goal…_

_Does the end justify the means?_

Her reflection held no answers.

* * *

As the _Ebon Hawk_ slowly approached the landing bay, they could see a small spherical ship sitting on the floor of the bay, up against the wall opposite the landing bay entrance.

“Any activity on that little ship?” Enosh asked.

“Nothing,” Bastila replied, looking at her scanners.  “No power, no life.”

“Looks as small as an escape pod,” Carth added.  “It can’t have any range, unless the tech is way beyond what the Republic has.”

“So maybe a maintenance vehicle?”

“Could be, but the design certainly doesn’t seem to match the freighter, as far as I can see.”

As the _Hawk_ neared the landing bay, Enosh noticed what appeared to be an observation deck overlooking the entrance.  He could see through the windows into the interior of the deck, but nothing appeared to be moving within the few pools of light visible.

The observation deck drifted out of sight above as the _Hawk_ entered the entrance.  Lights suddenly blinked and a buzzing noise squawked through the cockpit.

“Proximity warnings,” Bastila said, hitting the audio cutout to save them from the racket.  “I’m seeing a max of eight meters clearance, top and bottom each.  Lateral’s no issue.  Lateral drift looks good; less than 1 centimeter per second.  Longitudinal is… 5 meters per second, decel of 0.2.”

“This is going to be a tight squeeze,” Carth said, gripping the control yoke.  “Hang on.”

Enosh looked over Bastila’s shoulder, where she had a display of the side projection of the _Hawk_ gliding slowly through the rectangle that was the landing bay’s entrance.

“Fine attitude jets armed,” Bastila said.

“Come on, nice and easy,” Carth muttered, his eyes locked on the primary control display right above the yoke.  “Gear down.”

“Gear down,” Bastila repeated, pulling a lever.

Enosh could feel the ship shift ever so slightly as the gear were deployed.  Then there was a light feeling of weightlessness, then a soft thump as they landed on the landing bay floor.

* * *

The air in the bay was musty but breathable.  The lights were dim but steady.

They stood well back from the _Ebon Hawk_ as it gently hovered up off the deck of the bay, gradually slipped back through the pressurization field, and into space.

“Be careful in there,” Carth said through Enosh’s earpiece.

“Always,” he replied back, waving at the _Hawk_ one last time.

He turned to see Mission already walking around the little ship over by the wall.  He sighed to himself; so much for telling everyone to be careful!

Mission saw him looking at her and waved him over to the side of the ship hidden from his view.  “Enosh, think I found the door into this thing!”

They walked over and saw an opening beckoning before them.

“Mission!” Bastila reprimanded.

“Hey, lay off, will you?  Between you and Carth… sheesh!  It was already like this when I got here!”  And without further ado she scrambled inside.

Bastila sighed.

“This ship looks familiar to me,” Canderous said, walking up to Enosh’s side.  “A typical short-range shuttle, used on the Outer Rims by a multitude of civilizations.”

“Nothing distinguishing about it?” Enosh asked.

“No.  Common as the air we’re breathing.”

Mission poked her head out.  “It’s pretty crowded inside.”

“Yeah, this looks like it could barely fit three inside,” Canderous said.

“Nothing of interest,” Mission said as she emerged.  “Lots of writing that I couldn’t make out.”

Canderous poked his head in to look.  “I don’t recognize the glyphs, either,” he said.

“Query:  What’s the plan now, Master?” asked HK-47.

“Should be simple enough.  Something as powerful as a hyperspace damping field generator is probably in one of the cargo holds.  We go rummaging around in the cargo holds until we find it, and turn it off.”

There was only one corridor leading away from the bay, which went a short distance before intersecting a long, wide hallway at right angles.

“This must be the central axis of the ship,” Canderous said, peering into the gloom.  “Unusually tall and wide; space is usually at a premium in bulk freighters like these.”

“Perhaps to allow internal loading?” Enosh speculated.  He estimated the corridor to be six meters high at its peak, and at least twelve wide.  “Perhaps there’s a loading ramp in the back?”

“I guess that’s possible,” the Mandalorian said.  “And based on the orientation outside, I’m going to guess engines to the right, bridge to the left.”

“There might be maps in the bridge,” Mission said.

“My thoughts, too,” said Enosh.  “OK, off to the bridge we go.”

* * *

The hallway was periodically broken up by open doorways, which probably served as ways to isolate portions of the ship in case of depressurization and damage.  There were periodically wide doors to the sides, but none were open.

“Skip it for now, Mission,” Enosh said as the Twi’lek approached one such door.  “We’ll see if there’s anything in the bridge that can help us, first.”

“You know,” Canderous said, “now that we’ve been walking around in here for a while, something about this freighter seems familiar to me.  Not this freighter in particular, but something about the layout, the glyphs on the wall…”

“Artifacts of yet another civilization you’ve helped extinguish from the Galaxy?” Bastila asked.  “They all do tend to blur after a while, don’t they?”

Enosh cringed inside… not again!  It was bad enough with Carth, and he always got the uncertain feeling that Juhani also had some sort of grudge with the Mandalorian… but Bastila somehow never seemed to grow tired of voicing her disapproval of Canderous.  Or anything else, come to think of it.

She’d obviously been hoping to get a reaction out of Canderous, but she just as obviously didn’t know him very well.

“Yes, they all do,” Canderous smiled.  “They all do.”

“Observation: I envy you, sir,” HK-47 interjected.  Enosh suppposed that if it were possible for a droid to be infatuated, HK-47 was that droid right now.

“Someday that fate will befall Mandalore as well,” Canderous continued, thoughtfully.  “Perhaps the decline has already started, I don’t know.  But it was certainly glorious while it lasted.”

“Back to the original topic,” Enosh said before either Bastila or HK-47 could respond.  “You were saying this seemed familiar?”

“Yeah.  I’ve been on many a raiding expedition onto many an enemy vessel.”  He chuckled.  “Of course, they’ve never been as quiet and peaceful as this one!”

“And?”

“And this all somehow seems familiar.  I’ll have to think it over a little more, Enosh.  Keep your Jedi at bay and I’ll try to remember.”

Bastila pointedly ignored the comment.

* * *

The long, straight hallway ended at a large, open doorway into what looked like the control center of the ship.  A few dim lights were on, but all the displays were off.  The cockpit windows were shuttered by shielding of some type.

“Looks like we found the bridge,” Enosh called into his portable comm, as they entered and spread out.  “How’s it going out there?”

“Nothing new to report,” Carth replied.

Suddenly the sole door out of the control room slammed shut.

“Oops!”

Bastila turned on Mission.  “What do you mean, ‘oops!’?”

“I… I accidentally pushed this button… I’msorryIdidn’tmeanto...”

“Idiot Twi’lek!” growled Canderous.  “We should have left you back on the ship!”

Zaalbar moved with terrifying speed across the room, to suddenly appear next to the Mandalorian.

“Hey, I was just voicing an opinion,” he said, lifting his hands to show the enraged Wookiee that there was nothing in them.  “And I’m sure I’m not the only one; I’m just the only one who had the guts to say it!”

“You are a very cruel man,” Bastila replied.

“No, I’m just a very honest man,” he replied.

“It’s okay, Big Z,” Mission said.  Reluctantly, the Wookiee backed off.

“Mission,” Bastila said as gently as possible, as everyone else started to assemble around the closed door, “you need to be more careful in the future.”

“Yes, Bastila.”

“This technology is all very… very alien to us.  It may seem harmless, but we shouldn’t take any undue risk based on that assumption.”

“Yes, Bastila,” she repeated, eyes downcast.  When Bastila turned away to gather with the others around the door, Mission stuck her tongue out at the Padawan’s back.

“Do you think you can force it, HK-47?” Enosh asked the droid.

“Extrapolation: Yes, I think I can,” the droid replied.  The droid inserted its fingers into the thin vertical fissure between the two halves and pulled.

Nothing happened, and Enosh thought he could literally hear the actuators in HK-47’s arms whine as it applied power to them.

“Conclusion: no,” the droid sadly uttered, giving up the attempt.  “Query:  Shall I try my blasters, Master?”

“Those look like blaster doors to me,” Canderous said.  “Might end up frying us to a crisp if you did that, from the ricochets.”

“Query:  And are there any _negative_ consequences to the attempt?”

“No, no, don’t try,” Enosh said hurriedly.  “How about you, Zaalbar?”

The Wookiee tried as well, but his tremendous strength was useless without adequate leverage.

The dim control room was suddenly bathed in the bright light of a screen flaring to life.

“Observation:  Multiple energy build up signatures detected,” HK-47 intoned.

“Mission--!” Bastila exclaimed, turning around only to find the Twi’lek standing right behind her.

“Why are you so quick to blame _me_ for everything, hmmm?”

“Save it for later,” Enosh said, walking between the two of them to head off an argument, and to move over to the screen that had come to life.

The static on the screen disappeared, bringing into view a picture of a green-skinned, vaguely humanoid-looking being.  Three black eyes blinked in random sequence, and a noise that sounded like clicks emerged from unseen speakers.

“This is new to me,” Enosh said.  “Anyone got any ideas?”

A star system was displayed on the screen, followed by quickly changing images of a variety of beings, none of whom Enosh had ever seen the likes of before.

Canderous suddenly snapped his fingers together.  “The Collectors,” he said.

“The who?” Enosh asked.

“The Collectors.  A widespread nickname applied to them among some civilizations we, umm, _encountered_ during our wars.  We Mandalorians never encountered them directly on the Outer Rim, but we heard myths about them occasionally.”

“And…?” prompted Bastila.

“The stories always mentioned that they have this penchant for collecting sentient beings from across the galaxy, to exhibit in some sort of zoo in their home system.”

“And this must be their preferred manner for obtaining new zoo displays… trapping itinerant travelers along hyperspace lanes,” Enosh concluded.

“Observation:  Large-scale energy build up detected,” HK-47 interjected.  “I believe hyperspace engines have started to come on-line.”

“Wonderful,” said Mission.  “So now we’re going to be whisked halfway across the Galaxy, to end up locked up in cages somewhere, as the crowds go by.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Canderous said.

“What do you mean, ‘ _un_ fortunately’?” asked Bastila.

“Well, if the stories about the Collectors are really true, then maybe the other stories I’ve heard about them are true as well.  Namely, the ones about how their star system is a death trap now, owing to the fact that a nearby star went supernova, and the resultant collapse of said star just so happened to flood their system with enough high-energy electromagnetic radiation to completely wipe out their civilization in the blink of an eye.”

“And any passing ships will be treated to a similar electromagnetic shower,” finished Enosh.

“Exactly.”


	4. Chapter 4

_Discovery – Anxiety – Pursuit – The doorway_

* * *

Enosh activated his portable comm.  “ _Ebon Hawk_?  _Ebon Hawk_?  Come in, _Ebon Hawk_.”  Nothing but static on the other side.

“Observation:  There appears to be significant jamming on the comm frequencies, Master,” HK-47 said.

“How much time do we have?”

“Analysis:  Based on detected power build-up rate, and assuming it follows known profiles, I estimate fifteen minutes.”

“Confidence level?” Enosh asked, as he set a chronometer on his belt to fifteen minutes and started the countdown timer.

“Standard deviation one minute,” the droid replied.

He did the math quickly in his head.  So a 95% chance it was somewhere between thirteen and seventeen minutes.

On the display, there was a last image of the original alien creature speaking, and then it flickered off.

A metallic ‘snick’ sound echoed through the room.

Reflexively, Enosh brought his lightsaber hilt up and activated it.  He heard Bastila’s likewise come to life, as she instinctively moved back to back with him.

“What was that?” asked Mission, who had similarly paired up with Zaalbar.

“Observation:  My sensors have picked up disturbances in the air flow patterns, Master.”

“Gas!” said Bastila.

“Sleep tight before your trip,” grumbled Canderous.

“Observation: Air sampling indicates no change in composition.”

“There’s a minor blessing,” Enosh said, relaxing slightly.  The equipment must have degraded, whether over time or transits back to the Collectors’ irradiated star system.  But there was still the issue of the door trapping them in the control center.

The wall panel next to Mission suddenly dropped, and the Twi’lek screamed as something emerged from the darkness to grab her.

“Mission!” Bastila yelled, running towards her as the girl was pulled into the darkness in the wall.

Zaalbar was closer, and plunged headlong into the darkness, roaring, “Mission!”

“Wait!” yelled Enosh, grabbing hold of Bastila’s shoulder and stopping her from following the Wookiee.  “Canderous, your light!”

The Mandalorian flipped a switch and tossed the flashlight to Enosh.  He deftly caught it in his left hand and pointed it into the darkness, revealing a corridor.  They could see a flash of Zaalbar’s hair in the light, before it moved around a bend in the corridor and was lost to them

“You wait here with the others!” he told Bastila.

“But—!“

“Just do it!” he ordered, running into the corridor.

Hoping she would actually listen to him for once, he sped around the bend in the corridor.  He heard Mission gasp from up ahead, and heard the sound of metal being twisted and smashed.

Around another bend, this time in the other direction from the first, he ran into a room.  Mission lay on her side on the floor, her hand protecting her head.  Above her stood Zaalbar, who was ripping some sort of droid in two with his bare hands.  All he could make of it as it disintegrated in the Wookiee’s hands was dull gray metal chunks and spindly limbs.

“Are you alright, Mission?” he asked, as metal fragments and wire rained down upon the Twi’lek.

“More scared than hurt,” she gasped, breathing rapidly.  “Thanks, Big Z.”

Calming down, the Wookiee carefully put the remaining chunks of twisted metal and wire still in  his hands on the floor, then helped Mission to her feet.

Enosh scanned the dim room with his light, and stopped as he saw bodies on the floor.

“I think we just found the beings who owned that ship out on the landing bay floor,” he said.

The three approached the two bodies.  They were short and portly, with rubbery gray skin and thin limbs.

“Eeewww.  They look all dried up.”

“Who knows how long they’ve been back here,” Enosh said.  Well-preserved.  Canderous must be right; they must have died when this ship returned to the Collectors’ system, and any micro-organisms or bacteria inside them which would normally have broken them down must have been killed as well.

“Hey, Enosh, this looks like it might be the controls to the door!”

While Enosh had been contemplating the bodies, Mission had moved over to a dimly lit console on the wall on the other side of the room.  Her face was bathed in the pale light from the console as she studied it intently.

He and Zaalbar joined her.  “How can you tell?” Enosh asked.

She glanced at him, excitement coloring her eyes.  “It looks like a duplicate of the console I activated back in the control room!”  Realizing what she’d just said, she looked down contritely.  “I’m—I’m sorry about that—“

“It’s past,” he replied.  “No use wasting time dwelling on something you can’t change now.  And at this point I don’t see much risk in trying.”

She turned back to the console and her fingers started flying over the buttons.

* * *

“Observation: 200 Hz.”

Bastila snapped out of the whirlwind of thoughts that were chasing each other frantically through her mind as the droid’s words broke the empty silence.  “What?”

“200 Hz,” the droid repeated.  “Plus or minus 5 Hz.  The rate of your foot tapping is quite regular for a meatb—organic.”

Canderous laughed.  “You’re becoming predictable, Bastila.”

“Based on previous data, I surmise you are under a great deal of stress.”

“That’s hardly a brilliant deduction, droid,” she snapped, making a conscious effort to stop her nervous energy from driving her foot.  “And this is hardly the time for levity,” she added to Canderous.

The Mandalorian, who was methodically checking his blaster rifle, shrugged.  “You have to live in the present, and let the future come as it may,” he said.  “Otherwise you are ruled by fear and will never accomplish anything.”

“Spoken like a true warrior, I presume,” she said.

“We tend to be a fatalistic lot, yes,” he responded.  “I’ve seen enough battles to realize that there sometimes is no explanation for why some are spared and others are not, save by pure chance.  At some point you stop questioning why, and just accept what happens.”

At the Mandalorian’s words, Bastila’s thoughts involuntarily flashed back to the desperate assault on Darth Revan’s flagship, so long ago.  She’d stood there on the bridge of that light assault craft, as they’d maneuvered wildly through the incoming barrage of blaster fire, their shields constantly flaring as they absorbed all the glancing blows, and expected every moment of that seemingly never-ending journey to be her last.  But instead her craft had made it, and the other two on that desperate attack had been the ones that the Sith gunners had found, and whose crews had perished, their own expectations of the finality of death becoming true.

She shook the grim memories out of her mind.  The inaction was driving her to anxious distraction; Enosh might have ordered her to stay here, but she didn’t have to meekly wait here for his return to do something.

Spinning her lightsaber slowly, she approached the door.

“Tired of waiting?” Canderous asked.

“Perhaps brute force will work,” she replied.

The door creaked as she approached, and slowly opened.

She nearly dropped her lightsaber in surprise.  “What--?”

Canderous laughed.  “It looks like your reputation precedes you, Bastila,” he said, stepping through the open doorway, followed by HK-47.

She reached the threshold of the doorway, then looked back just as Enosh, Mission and Zaalbar emerged from the dark corridor they’d disappeared into.  An almost debilitating wave of relief overcame her at the sight.

“See!  I told you that would open the door!” Mission beamed at Enosh.

Spotting Bastila, Enosh smiled at her.  “What are you waiting for?  Let’s get out of here!”

* * *

Just as Enosh, trailing behind the others, left the control center, he heard doors opening up all around him.  Looking back into the gloom of the bridge, he saw a multitude of droids emerge from the shadows.  They all looked somewhat like spiders, perhaps half as tall as he was, with spindly legs articulating as they poured out of the walls.  Small laser turrets mounted on their heads aimed at him, and he brought up his lightsaber to deflect their blasts.

“I thought you said they were collecting live specimens!” Mission yelled at Canderous.

“Better dead than escaped, I guess!” the Mandalorian yelled back, pulling out his rifle as doors in the hallway ahead of them opened up and droids emerged.

“Statement: Finally an opportunity to exercise!” HK-47 said, pouring forth a murderous stream of fire.

As the Mandalorian and the droid swept the hallway ahead of them with fire, Bastila leapt into the fray, her lightsaber whirling smoothly about her as she danced amongst the droids ahead of them.  Explosions burst forth all around her as her blows struck home, and blaster bolts skittered harmlessly off her lightsaber.  A deadly coordination emerged among the three of them, as they wove their attacks to hack and blast their way down the hallway.

Bringing up the rear along with Enosh, Mission and Zaalbar jogged backwards, covering him with blaster and bowcaster fire while he struck down the droids pursuing them and deflected their blaster fire.

* * *

Canderous and HK-47 laid down a sweep of devastating fire just in front of Bastila, cutting down the veritable forest of droids impeding their way.  The corridor in front of them was suddenly clear, up to at least a distant open doorway.

But then two doors on the walls in front and to either side of that doorway opened, revealing two larger, heavily-armored versions of the droids they’d battled all the way down the corridor.

“Door guards!” said Canderous, as he and HK-47 pinpointed them with their fire.  Their blaster bolts skittered off the door guards’ thick armor.

Bastila twirled her lightsaber in front of her, as the door guards’ turrets unleashed a barrage at her.  She started running towards them, their bolts sizzling off her blurring shield.

“Look!  The door!” Mission yelled from behind.

The massive bulkhead door behind the large droids was starting to descend!

“Too far away!” yelled Canderous, still pumping useless bolts into the unaffected door guards.

Bastila stopped, then flung her twirling lightsaber as hard as she could down the hallway.  It spun in a flat disc, scything through the air, shielding them from the droids’ rapid blaster fire.  Curving at the last moment, it tore into the droid on the right, sending sparks and chunks of metal flying.  Ricocheting off, it sliced into the droid on the left, sparking a giant explosion.  Flung from that explosion, it suddenly went vertical and jammed itself into the shrinking gap in the doorway beyond, its seeming fragility nevertheless stopping the bulkhead door in its tracks.

“Okay, now I have to admit that _that_ was impressive,” Canderous said.

“Go, go, go!” urged Enosh from behind, deflecting the blaster fire from the droids pursuing them.

Bastila raced through the doorway, stepping over the lower lip of the door and ducking slightly under the upper portion of the door, which was shuddering as it tried to close the gap.  The metal of the door was smoking and sizzling as it relentlessly ground itself into the lightsaber’s burning energy beams.

“Hurry!” she called back, eyeing the door as it creaked down a little.  “It won’t hold for much longer!”

_DOWN!_

Almost as if the painfully clear bond-thought from Enosh was a physical force, she slammed into the deck just as a barrage of well-aimed turret fire blasted the air she’d recently occupied.

Canderous ducked beneath the overhang of the door, then turned to take cover behind a slight vertical column framing the side of the doorway.  “A blaster too pedestrian for you?” he asked Bastila as she looked up at him from the floor, and tossed her a pistol.

She snatched it smoothly out of the air, then took up a similar position behind the vertical column on the opposite side of the doorway from the Mandalorian and started pouring fire into the ranks of the pursuing droids.

* * *

“Go down the hallway, HK-47!” Enosh yelled as the droid passed through the shrinking doorway.  “Make sure the rest of the way is clear!”

“Hurry up, you slowpokes!” Canderous yelled, tossing grenades down the hallway.  They traveled over Enosh’s shoulder, setting off a massive chain of explosions that sent chunks of droids flying everywhere.

Mission hopped through the doorway, followed by the tall Zaalbar, who had to crouch over until his upper body was almost horizontal to get through the shrinking opening.

His lightsaber moving frantically to deflect the blaster bolts aimed at him, Enosh spared a quick glance back at his companions gathered around the doorway, trying to provide covering fire for him.  “Go on, get away from the door and down the hall!” he yelled.  “Go!”

Turning back to the pursuing droids, he tossed three grenades simultaneously with his free hand into their thick ranks.  Giant explosions thundered, orange blooms erupting within the metal forest.

The droids temporarily distracted by the massive destruction among their front ranks, Enosh turned completely around and ran the last few steps to the doorway, leaping through the air and then diving into the narrowing gap of the doorway, grabbing Bastila’s suspended lightsaber hilt with an outflung arm as he passed through.  He ripped it out through the face of the door, and it slammed shut as he tumbled to the floor.

His heart was racing, and he found himself shaking at the narrow escape.  A dizzying wave of disorientation came over him, and suddenly the sensation of trembling anxiety disappeared.

He looked up to see Bastila approach from the side of the doorway.  She looked like she’d just seen a ghost; her face was wan and her eyes were pained as they looked at him.

“I thought I told everyone to go,” he said, picking himself up off the floor slowly.  His right shin stung sharply; he must have struck it against the lower door lip.  A quick glance showed that the others were already down the corridor a little, which was thankfully empty of droids.

She blinked.  “I—I’ve had some bad luck recently letting my lightsaber out of my sight,” she replied weakly.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she looked miserable, he’d have thought she was actually making a joke.  “You’ll have to teach me that trick sometime,” he said as he handed the deactivated hilt back to her.

A little color returned to her face as she flushed slightly, flashing him a quick, tight ghost of a smile.

“You should do that more often.”

A puzzled look crossed her face.  “What?  Toss my lightsaber around, smashing droids and keeping doors open?”

“No.  Smile.”

She flushed again, averting her eyes.  “I—I think the others are waiting for us,” she said, before running down the hallway after them.


	5. Chapter 5

_Signals – The numbers – Tight quarters – Rendezvous_

* * *

As Enosh emerged out of the side corridor and entered the landing bay, he was not surprised to see that the bay doors were closed.

“Bantha poodoo!” spat Mission as she ran in alongside him.  “Now what?”

“ _Ebon Hawk_?  _Ebon Hawk_?  Come in, _Ebon Hawk_ ,” he said into his portable comm.  Still nothing.  He looked down at the chronometer attached to his belt—just under eight minutes left.  “HK-47, how’s the engine power profile looking?”

“Response:  still tracking nominal power curve.  Original assessment of time remaining still valid.”

“Perhaps there’s an override for the doors somewhere nearby?” Bastila asked.

“On the way in, I noticed a window above the landing bay entrance,” Enosh said.  “Seems like a natural place to put door controls for the landing bay.  Perhaps if we can figure out how to get up there…”

“I did notice a side passage in the hallway, on the way in here,” Canderous added.

“Lead the way,” Enosh said.

They followed the Mandalorian to a recessed opening partly hidden in the shadows at the side of the hallway.  Enosh used the flashlight to light up the darkness, revealing that the passageway was short, leading to a stairway headed up.

“Zaalbar, HK-47, stay down here and make sure we don’t get cut off from the landing bay.  Everyone else follow me.”

The flashlight’s beams leading the way, he led them up the stairway.  It was straight and not too steep, with a faint gleam showing at the top, perhaps forty meters away.

At the top of the stairs, the stairway opened up to a large, wide, dimly-lit room dominated by a large window facing out into space.  It was the observation deck overlooking the landing bay that Enosh had noticed earlier.

“Thank goodness!” breathed Bastila as they saw out the window the _Ebon Hawk_ floating nearby, perhaps two hundred meters out.

A quick search through the room revealed that it contained nothing beyond a few dimly-lit light fixtures on the walls.

“Maybe the controls are somewhere else?” Canderous speculated.

“No time left to look,” Enosh said.  “Do you have a tight-focus beacon?”

He grabbed a rectangular box off a belt and handed it to him.

He studied it a moment, locating the light and the shutter button.  Setting it down on a narrow ledge just beneath the bottom edge of the window, he powered it on, used the viewfinder to focus on the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s cockpit, and started tapping out semaphore.

HELLO HELLO OVER.

Almost without thinking, his fingers moved, sending out the well-practiced greeting.  They’d poured over their datapads and books, back in basic, going over the semaphore codes.  He’d thought it was all a musty anachronism, foisted on them by self-important instructors intent on torturing their students psychologically as well as physically.  Nevertheless, they’d drilled him in its usage, and his fingers remembered all too well.  He could even see the code books in front of him, their well-worn, physical pages smooth to his fingertips.

After a short delay, he saw the running lights near the _Ebon Hawk_ ’s cockpit blink as Carth flashed back a response.

OK OVER.

It was all hopelessly old-fashioned and out-of-date, dating back millennia to oceanic vessels sailing the seas of ancient worlds, no doubt.  But it could be surprisingly useful in battle…

Strange images suddenly filtered through his mind. The sterile light of the remembered classroom, his buddy dozing off in the desk next to him, suddenly were superimposed on the deep depths of a dark nebulae, swirling gases filtering silently by in a viewscreen. Distant glows of blinking lights faintly reflected within the gaseous clouds, as comm channels were awash in enemy interference and static.

But _Endar Spire_ had been his first battle. What was this?

"Enosh? Enosh?"

Physical motion rocked him out of his stupor, and he noticed Bastila standing in front of him, her hands shaking his shoulders, a pensive look on her face, her eyes somehow seeming to drill deep down into his own.

"Enosh? Did you see something? A vision?"

He shook his head, shaking off the lethargy. "I don't know... it was strange..."

His chronometer chimed at him.  Five minutes left.  The remembered urgency sent the tattered remnants of his vision fleeing.  “Right.  Time enough for this later.”  Assuming they made it off.  Suppressing any doubts, he turned back to the window and signaled the _Ebon Hawk_.

TRAPPED 5 MINUTES TO HYPER NEED DOOR OPEN YOU OK? OVER.

He silently translated Carth’s reply as it came.

LIGHT FLAK FROM SHIP WE DESTROYED FLAK GUNS AND PREPARED MINE OVER.

“They were attacked by turrets on the freighter, but handled it,” he said to the others.  “Carth’s already rigged up a mine.”

“Good Republic soldier,” Canderous said.

Enosh pondered the situation, all too aware that time was running out for them.  Blowing the mine against the door was the obvious action, but it might not be powerful enough to breach the door.  Even if it did, it probably wouldn’t create an opening large enough for the _Ebon Hawk_ to get through.  Not to mention the fact that any air in the landing bay would quickly be lost into the vacuum of space, until the inevitable emergency systems in the freighter kicked in to either close off the breach or isolate the loss of pressurization to the landing bay.

There was only one possibility he could think of.

PLAN USE MINE ON DOOR WE EXIT VIA SHUTTLE OVER.

SHUTTLE OK? OVER.

And that was the issue… how long had that shuttle been sitting there in the landing bay, its systems slowly degrading over time?

HOPE SO NO TIME FOR ALTERNATES MARK TIME 4:30 MINUTES OVER.

OK OVER.

MARK OVER.

OK OVER.

BLOW MINE 1 MINUTE OVER OUT.

If HK-47 was right about the hyperspace power build-up profile, there was only a 15% chance the freighter would jump into hyperspace before the one minute mark.

GOOD LUCK OVER OUT.

* * *

With hurried breath he related the plan to the others as they raced back down the stairway.

“We can’t all fit in that shuttle,” Bastila said.

“HK-47 can hang on outside.  Or take his chances being blown out when the landing bay loses its air; who knows, he might even enjoy that.  The rest of us will just have to make it work.”

“That still leaves five of us,” she pointed out.

“Yes, I know, I can count, too,” he replied angrily, knowing where she was headed with this.

Her voice hard at his barb, she continued on.  “Canderous is the only one who can fly that shuttle.  You are the key to defeating Malak; the entire Republic depends on you.  Zaalbar is an important member of the ruling clan of Kashyyyk.  And Mission is only a child.”

“I am not a child!” Mission interjected, glaring back at Bastila from her spot at the front of their descent down the stairs.

“Yes, yes,” Bastila said dismissively.  “Enosh, you are unduly risking everyone’s lives for a misguided, though noble—“

“And why is it five in the first place?” he snapped back, all too aware of whom Bastila was all too ready to sacrifice.  And the cold, hard, unarguable logic behind it.

The anger in Mission’s eyes suddenly turned to contrition as she focused on Enosh.

“No, that was unfair of me,” he said to her.  To all of them.  “We would never have gotten this far without everyone here.  But no one is staying behind,” he said firmly, glaring back at Bastila.  “No one.”

She pursed her lips, but did not reply.

* * *

Picking up Zaalbar and HK-47 back in the hallway, they all ran into the landing bay.

“Any good spots to hold onto, HK-47?” Enosh asked the droid, as the others piled into the shuttle.

“Observation: several promising stabilizer fins and antennae up here, Master,” the droid replied as it climbed up the shuttle’s hull.  “This certainly is a first for me, as far as my memory banks can recall.  I shall be sure to dedicate an especially reliable bank of memory for this.”  A mechanical sigh emerged from the droid’s vocal chords.  “Ah, it appears I shall have to move that memory of Yuka Laka smashing his finger in the compactor.  After running a checksum, of course, to verify data integrity.”  And the droid chuckled as it replayed the memory through its mind.

Leaving the droid to its reminisces, Enosh entered the shuttle.  Closing the door behind himself as he entered the dimly-lit interior, he found himself standing face-to-face with Bastila in the cramped cabin.

“Ah, kind of crowded in here, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied, her gray eyes seeming to loom large in his vision.

“Ow!” squealed Mission from deeper in the cabin, immediately behind Bastila.  “Watch where you jab that hilt, Bas!”

Bastila turned away from Enosh, her hair whispering against his cheek.  “Sorry, Mission.”

Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, she was thrust into his arms.

“Mission!” Bastila gasped from the vicinity of Enosh’s chest.  “Watch what you’re doing!”

“It wasn’t me!” the Twi’lek protested.

“Sorry about that,” Canderous growled from deeper in the cabin.  “I had to find the door lock.”

“Geez, Big Z,” Mission coughed.  “Breathe into your hand or something.  I’m gagging over here.”

“Sorry, Mission,” the Wookiee said.  “I do not enjoy being locked in tight spaces like this.  I am starting to sweat profusely.”

“I was wondering what that smell was,” Canderous grumbled.  “Quit fidgeting or you’ll just make it worse.  And you’re up against my main flight console; don’t move or you’re liable to turn something important off.”

“Speaking of that; how are the systems, Canderous?” Enosh asked, as Bastila pushed back against Mission and regained some separation distance from him.

“Half look okay, the other half I can’t tell,” he replied, as Enosh felt the door lock behind him.

A buzzer sounded.  “Ten seconds,” Canderous said.

Enosh braced himself.  Bastila looked calmly past his shoulder, and he could sense her mind distracting itself somewhere far away.  He spotted Mission glancing at him from over Bastila’s shoulder, and gave her a confident smile.  She really was just a child, despite her words to the contrary, and it must be hard for children to contemplate the unfamiliar thought of their own mortality.

He did not whole-heartedly feel the confidence that he was trying to project to Mission.  There were just too many things that could go wrong.  His mind raced through the chain of things that had to go right, the uncertainties that were almost completely out of his control.  But he had to admit to himself that, if these indeed were the last moments of his life, there were certainly worse ways to go than staring into Bastila’s glorious eyes.

_Am I being selfish?  For if I die here now, she dies with me._

As if in reply, her eyes returned from wherever they had gone to return his steady gaze.

* * *

“Here goes nothing!” Canderous yelled, igniting the shuttle’s thrusters when he saw the countdown timer on the panel hit 1 second.

A rumble shook the entire shuttle as it shuddered and jumped off the deck.  To the Mandalorian’s surprise, all three engine indicators turned green.

Gripping the stick, he pointed the nose of the shuttle at the still-closed landing bay doors, right in the center where the vertical line of the upper and lower doors met.

“I hope your aim is good, Carth Onasi,” he muttered, as the shuttle raced toward the still-closed door.

The timer flipped to 0.

A violent explosion suddenly blossomed like a fiery flower on the landing bay door in front of him.

He felt the shuttle suddenly pick up speed as the air in the bay suddenly pushed the craft.

The fiery explosion evaporated, and he saw the blackness of space…

…slightly to the right!

He banked just as the shuttle reached the jagged hole that had been punched through the door.

WHAM!

His teeth gashed into his lip as the collision jarred the universe.

Another eye blink, and suddenly he saw the wildly spinning starry blackness of space through the viewscreen.

Gritting his teeth at the centrifugal forces, he struggled to force his forefinger to hit a button.

His eyes looked at the indicator for the spin stabilization system, expecting to see green.

Nothing!

There was one more, a backup system… he struggled to reach the control.

His thumb slipped over the slightly raised button and depressed it.

_Work, damn you, work!_

Green!

The wild spinning slowly stopped.

* * *

“I think I’m going to be sick!” Mission whispered as the shuttle stabilized.

“I already am,” weakly bleated Zaalbar, and an awful stench radiated through the cabin.

“Is everyone okay?” Enosh asked, trying to ignore the floating blobs in the weightlessness.  He’d been pinned against the door during the spin, and his back ached intensely from the door handle jabbing itself into him.

“Bruised,” Mission replied.

“Bloody lip,” mumbled Canderous.

“Sick,” Zaalbar said.

“I’m okay,” Bastila added.

Enosh’s portable comm came to life.  “Enosh!  Enosh!  Come in!  Are you okay?”

Relief flooded over him.  “Carth!  Yes, we’re all okay in here!  HK-47 should be clinging to the shuttle’s exterior; do you see him?”

“Yes.”

The tension that had been drawn into his stomach bled away.

“You made it just in time,” Carth added.  “Right after you stopped spinning, the freighter went into hyperspace.”

* * *

As they waited in the shuttle, Carth maneuvered the _Ebon Hawk_ closer, then extended the thankfully flexible airlock to the shuttle’s door.  With HK-47’s assistance, the lip of the airlock was tightly secured around the shuttle’s door and pressurized.

Wearily, they disembarked and stepped foot gratefully onto the _Ebon Hawk_.  The others were gathered around the entrance to greet them.

“Welcome home, conquering heroes!” grinned Jolee.  “Someone take a picture!”

He smiled to himself.  They must look like quite a sight… bedraggled, bruised, and splattered in Wookiee vomit.

“Why is there never a holo recorder around when you need one?” Jolee continued.

“Hey Carth, you missed on that mine,” Canderous said.  “It’s a good thing I had enough time to react; otherwise, we would have smashed right into the hull.”

“That’s a strange way of saying ‘thank you’,” Carth replied back.

“I’m hungry,” Zaalbar said.  “Join me in the mess, Mission?”

“Don’t even mention food to me right now,” the Twi’lek said, paling at the thought.  “I think I’ll go be sick in the bathroom.”

Enosh sighed.  “It’s good to be back.”

He sensed Bastila at his side.  “We need to talk,” she said.

“What?”

“We need to talk.  About your vision.”

“Right now?” he asked, turning to face her.  “Don’t you want to go—cleanup or something first?  We’re all supposed to be dignified representatives of the Jedi, remember?”

“This is serious, Enosh.”

Something dripped off a limp braid and plopped onto the floor.  She paid no notice, and the look in her eyes warned him to do the same.

THE END


End file.
